


You're Designed to Tremble Too

by TonightNoPoetryWillServe



Series: Resolution Amid The Turbulence [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Canonical Divergence, Genius!Jim, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jim can charm anyone, M/M, PTSD, Protective!Spock, Sarek's parenting, Spock!POV, Winona fails in this story, angsty, but hopeful?, protective!jim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:29:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29690901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TonightNoPoetryWillServe/pseuds/TonightNoPoetryWillServe
Summary: 13-year-old Jim Kirk comes to live with Sarek, Amanda, and Spock on Vulcan after a terrible tragedy. Spock is initially less than pleased, but quickly finds himself fascinated by the human boy.  I am rating this mature more because of the implications than anything else. A sequel is in the works that will jump ahead a few years!Spock is not sure if he has ever been particularly happy, but he has never been concerned that his basic needs would be met, has always had the support of his father and the love of his mother. This last is not very Vulcan, but he is grateful for it nonetheless, more so than he would ever admit aloud. What does Jim have? The thought leaves him oddly cold.Series and work title stolen from Adrienne Rich.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Series: Resolution Amid The Turbulence [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2181921
Comments: 25
Kudos: 163





	You're Designed to Tremble Too

**Author's Note:**

> Note: there’s a deleted scene from Star Trek 2009 that implies that Jim was well-behaved and did well in school up until Sam left, and that’s when he decides to act out by driving his father’s car off a cliff. This story explores what happens when he gets sent away and experiences horrific consequences afterward.

Spock awakens to the sound of the front door opening; he rises from bed and quietly makes his way down the hallway, pausing when he sees that his father is there, but not alone.

The human boy standing before him is thinner than anyone Spock has ever seen. He knows little of human anatomy, but suspects he is in ill health. Spock is not familiar enough with emotion to identify the feelings displayed on the boy’s face, but it is clear that he is quite emotional. He raises his hand in the _ta’al_ , chin tilted up—perhaps in defiance?

His father returns it and speaks in Standard. “James Tiberius Kirk, my name is Sarek. You will be staying here with my family and me for the time-being.”

Spock frowns at this; why would his father have brought a human child to stay with them? Is their family not troubled enough by association with humanity?

“Here?” the boy— _James_ —asks.

“Yes.”

“In exchange for what?”

“No exchange is required. Children need not compensate adults for their care.”

The boy’s brow furrows; Spock believes the emotions he currently displays include confusion and suspicion. “But why? You don’t even know me.”

“I have the resources to ensure your care, and know you to be one of few human children capable of succeeding in the Vulcan education system. It is logical that you remain here.”

The confusion is obvious on his face now. “You want me to… go to school?”

“Affirmative.”

“Why do you even care?”

Sarek pauses. “You saved the lives of eight other children at great personal risk.” 

James winces and looks away. His eyes close, expression pained. Spock cannot comprehend his reaction. After a few seconds of silence, James says in a strangely small voice, “Did they all have somewhere to go?”

“Affirmative; all have been claimed by relatives.”

James nods, as if this is expected, but he looks somewhat relieved. “I’m the only one nobody wants.” 

“Negative,” Sarek replies.

Vulcans do not laugh, so the only laugh Spock has heard is his mother’s, and she does not do so frequently. Still, he finds the sound of the boy’s laughter odd, as if it causes him pain. “But you don’t—not really. You’ll get tired of having me around eventually.”

“You refer to an emotional reaction; as Vulcans do not experience emotions, your concerns are invalid.” He hesitates for 4.3 seconds, then adds, “Furthermore, my wife is human, and will be pleased to have human company. While she is currently off-world, she will return in 2.73 months.”

That draws James’ gaze back to his father. “What?”

“Clarify your query.” 

“You married a human?”

“Affirmative.”

“Why?”

“Because it was logical. It is also logical that we ensure your care. Do you accept this?”

James looks bewildered. “Well—okay, I guess. Do you have kids?”

“I have two sons. One is already of age. One is 15.2 years old; he resides with us.”

“Cool,” James replies, shuffling his feet a bit.

“Are you hungry?”

James shakes his head. “They fed me on the shuttle.”

“Come then, I will show you to your quarters.”

Spock retreats back to his quarters, but does not return to sleep. He is confused by his father’s decision to invite an unknown human into their home, but also knows that if Sarek has concluded that this is a logical course of action, he will not be dissuaded. Spock only hopes that the boy’s presence will not result in further ostracization by his peers. 

It is, perhaps, an unworthy thought, and Spock recalls again the pained expression on the boy’s face when Sarek raised the fact that he had rescued other children. 

Spock finds his mind somewhat disordered, and elects to meditate before returning to sleep.

***  
Spock officially meets James the next morning over breakfast, though he insists that Spock call him Jim. He does not make a similar request of Sarek, who continues to address him as James. 

They eat in silence, as they typically do when Spock’s mother is not present. Jim eats slowly, almost as if the food pains him, and consumes only a small portion. Spock tamps down on a small jolt of concern, wondering again if the human is ill. In the daylight, he is struck by Jim’s blue eyes and blond hair. He will not fit in on Vulcan at all. 

Sarek departs for his office after breakfast, instructing Jim to comm him with any difficulties; Spock already knows to do so. “Thanks,” Jim says, looking mildly confused.

Sarek looks back at Spock. “Please ensure he is adequately fed.”

Jim’s cheeks flush red. After Sarek departs, he mumbles at the floor, “I can take care of myself.”

Spock arches one eyebrow. “While that is likely true, I must follow my father’s instructions. And as I must prepare my own meals, it is only logical that I prepare yours as well.”

“Whatever,” Jim says, still looking at the floor.

As school is in recess, Spock is free to spend the day as he chooses. He wonders briefly what Jim will do, but does not inquire. Instead, he retreats to his quarters to read a new research paper on finite group actions on three manifolds. 

That evening, he inquires of his father why Jim has come to live with them. “He was in need, and we are capable of providing,” is Sarek’s only reply. Spock tries to press him for further information, but his father clearly does not wish to impart anything further. Although Spock wishes to express his frustration, he does not; Sarek will only be disappointed in him for revealing emotion. 

As the days pass, Spock finds himself perturbed by Jim. The only other human he knows is his mother, and while she is not overly verbose, Jim is nearly silent. At first, Spock finds this agreeable. There is no need for them to converse. Perhaps Jim is simply a quiet human.

But on the third day of their acquaintance, as they eat lunch together in silence, they both reach for a serving bowl at the same time. Their fingers brush.

It is an assault of emotions: _fear, anger, pain._

Jim pulls back as if burned, his face going red.

Spock merely stares. He has experienced human emotions only with his mother, but one thing is very clear: “You are distressed.”

Jim’s eyes widen. “Did you just read my mind?”

“Only your surface emotions—it was unintentional.”

“I’m fine, Spock.”

“Fine has variable definitions, none of which appear to correlate with your current emotional state.”

Jim pushes back from the table, though he has not consumed an adequate lunch. “I said I’m fine. Drop it.”

Spock does not know what to say, so he says nothing, merely watching Jim retreat to his quarters.

***

Spock wakes to the sound of screaming. He bolts from his bed, following the sound to Jim’s quarters. The boy is thrashing in his bed. “No, please, _NO!_ ”

Sarek brushes past him into the room and seizes Jim’s upper arms, shaking him. “James, wake up.”

“Stop, please! _Don’t touch me!_ ” Jim screams, wrenching himself away from Sarek. His eyes snap open and dart about the room frantically; he is clearly panicked.

Sarek lets him pull away. “James, you are here on Vulcan. You are safe.”

Wide, blue eyes stare at Sarek, flicker over to Spock. Jim barely seems aware of where he is, his respiration unnaturally elevated. 

“You are safe,” Sarek repeats. “You were experiencing a nightmare.” Vulcans very rarely dream. The only reason Spock has even heard of a nightmare is because his mother has had them on occasion. 

Gradually, Jim’s respiration slows. His eyes flicker over to Spock, standing in the doorway, then back to Sarek. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry,” he says, and Spock realizes that his eyes are wet with tears. “It won’t happen again. I’ll control it. I’ll—” 

“Apologies are illogical. Come.”

Jim goes very still. “You’re kicking me out?” He sounds _terrified_. Something tightens in Spock’s side, around the area of his heart. Does he truly believe that Sarek would abandon him over something so beyond his control?

“No,” Sarek says simply. “Come to the living room.”

“Oh—okay.” 

Jim is wearing some of Spock’s old pajamas; while Spock has always been slim, they hang off Jim’s gaunt frame. “Sorry I woke you guys up,” he adds sheepishly.

“Apologies are illogical,” Spock says, speaking for the first time. 

“You may return to sleep, Spock.”

Spock hesitates; he does not wish to leave Jim in this state, even though he is perfectly safe with Sarek. “May I accompany you?”

“Very well,” Sarek answers. In the living room, Sarek folds himself down into a cross-legged position on the floor. “Sit,” he instructs Jim, who obeys. Spock sits as well. “Would you allow me to touch your mind? I may be able to ease your distress.”

Jim’s eyes go very wide. “I… You want to go inside my mind?”

“Affirmative.”

“I don’t know. I—I don’t think—” Jim’s respiration is increasing again.

“You are uncomfortable. We will try another method. Have you ever meditated?”

“No.”

“It is how Vulcans maintain ordered minds, even in sleep. I will instruct you. Close your eyes and concentrate on the sound of my voice.”

Jim looks a little uncertain, but obeys. Sarek guides him through a very basic meditation, and Spock waits until Jim’s breathing is even and slow before allowing himself to drop into a meditative state.

There are no more nightmares that night.

Two nights later, Spock again wakes to the sound of screaming. Again, Sarek shakes Jim awake, then guides him through a meditation. This time they all sit together on the floor of Jim’s room.

The next evening, Sarek and Spock are reading in the living room when Jim walks in, looking determined. “Will you help me meditate again? Please? I—I’m scared to sleep without it.”

“Very well,” Sarek says. It becomes an everyday occurrence for the three of them to sit in meditation together. Jim takes quickly to the techniques, seeming to find solace in them. Spock is more grateful than he would have anticipated. He does not wake up to Jim’s screams again, but his eidetic memory occasionally replays the sounds. He knows that nightmares, especially for humans, can be completely disconnected from reality, but he suspects that Jim’s nightmares are memories. His expression appears haunted when he speaks of them. 

***  
Three weeks later, on the first day of the new school term, Sarek drives them to the school. As with all new students, Jim will be tested and then educated based on his knowledge and intelligence. Spock ignores the stares of his classmates.

“Do we really need another human?” Saval, one of Spock’s frequent tormentors, says loudly in Vulcan. Spock glances at Jim; he does not appear to understand the comment.

Spock ignores it. It is intended as an insult toward him as well. Jim’s presence in his life and his home has become acceptable, but returning to school is a reminder that he is not accepted, that Jim is not accepted, and that Jim will likely fuel his classmates’ negative behaviors toward him. He does not actively avoid Jim at the Academy, but he does not seek him out, either.

Sarek collects them at the end of the day. “At what level have you tested?” he asks Jim without preamble.

“9.25,” Jim replies, and Spock feels his eyes widen in surprise. That is likely at least a year ahead of Vulcans at Jim’s age, which Spock estimates at 13.21. If true, this belies remarkable intelligence, especially for a human.

“Excellent,” Sarek says. 

“I’m good at school,” Jim says. “I’ll fulfill my end of our deal.”

Sarek nods gravely. 

Spock is momentarily confused by the comment, then recalls the conversation he overheard when Jim arrived at their house, when he agreed to go to school. Spock is not sure if he has ever been particularly happy, but he has never been concerned that his basic needs would be met, has always had the support of his father and the love of his mother. This last is not very Vulcan, but he is grateful for it nonetheless, more so than he would ever admit aloud. 

What does Jim have? The thought leaves him oddly cold.

***

“Where are you going?”

Spock pauses, glancing back at Jim, who has his hands in his pockets and is shifting a bit in what Spock believes to be nervousness.

It is Sunday, so neither of them has any obligations. “I intend to visit the science museum. There is a new exhibit on early space exploration.”

“Oh, okay.” Jim looks reticent. 

Spock has begun to realize that Jim rarely asks for what he wants. “Would you care to accompany me?”

A sharp intake of breath. “Yeah.”

As they walk through the museum, they talk softly of the exhibit. Spock is once again surprised by Jim’s intelligence. He has also rarely heard Jim speak this much, and finds it unexpectedly agreeable. “This is the _Alpha 2_ model,” he breathes out in quiet excitement. “It was the first Vulcan drive capable of Warp 3.”

Spock arches one eyebrow at him. “You are quite knowledgeable about space travel.”

“Yeah,” Jim says, almost an admission. “My dad was in Starfleet. My mom is, too.”

The information is startling; Spock has assumed that Jim has no living relatives. Why else would he be residing with strangers on Vulcan? “Your mother is alive?”

Jim goes very still and does not look at Spock. “Yeah. She’s in deep space. I _think_ she knows where I am by now, but if she does she didn’t even bother to—” He stops abruptly, shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. She didn’t raise me, anyway.”

“Who did?” This is an inappropriately personal query; Spock asks it anyway.

“My uncle, mostly. He’s an asshole. That’s why I was living off world.”

“And your father?”

“Died on the day I was born.”

“I see,” Spock says, although he does not. Jim has at least two living relatives—why are they not seeing to his care? He is surprised to realize he is experiencing anger on Jim’s behalf. Jim is just a child, and the adults in his life have failed him. 

“Learned my lesson, though—I’m not going to screw this up and give Sarek a reason to kick me out. Then I’d really have nowhere to go.”

“He will not. My father does not abdicate his responsibilities.”

“But I’m not really his responsibility, am I?”

“You are,” Spock corrects him, firmly. 

Jim shrugs and looks away.

“Why were you sent off-world?” Another inappropriate question.

“…I drove a car off a cliff.”

Spock’s eyes widen and he glances over Jim’s thin body again. He has clearly recovered from any injury sustained. He has also, Spock notes with gratification, begun to gain some much-needed weight.

“I was angry. Uncle Frank had been such an asshole that my brother left. So—so I took my Dad’s car, which Uncle Frank said was _his_ car, even though it wasn’t, and I… I drove it off a cliff. Didn’t matter that I’d never gotten in trouble before that, that I always had good grades and did what he said. That was enough. I just—I really didn’t want Sam to leave.” Jim is becoming agitated, and wipes furiously at his watering eyes. 

“Unacceptable,” Spock breaths out.

Jim’s face falls. “Yeah, I know I shouldn’t have—”

“Not you,” Spock corrects, unable to prevent emotion from registering in his voice. He recalls again that Jim, a child, had somehow saved eight other children from harm. Why had such heavy responsibilities fallen on him? Why is his family not fulfilling their obligations? “Your family has behaved in a completely unacceptable manner toward you. I am pleased you are now under the care of responsible adults.” 

Startled blue eyes meet his. They are a very pleasant color, Spock thinks suddenly. Then Jim’s gaze flickers to the ground, his cheeks red with what Spock believes to be embarrassment. “Oh… Thanks. Let’s um—let’s go look at the Omega cruiser, yeah?”

Spock nods his agreement.

***  
Most of the Vulcan children ignore Jim. Some of them make rude comments in Vulcan, but he clearly does not understand them and says nothing. Spock is gratified that Jim is not subject to harsher treatment. 

But he still feels rather cowardly that he rarely seeks Jim out at school. Association with humanity has already resulted in lifelong ridicule; he does not want to give his classmates yet another reason to behave cruelly toward him. Jim deserves better treatment than this, but he does not complain. This only increases Spock’s guilt. 

When Saval and two of his friends approach Spock one day after school, he restrains the very human urge to sigh. Their comments do not cause him the emotional distress they once did, but they are still unwelcome.

He ignores the majority of what they say—and then they bring up Jim. He does not know why, but it causes a spike of anger.

“Cease these comments.” Even as he says it, he knows it will invite further discrimination toward himself—and possibly toward Jim as well.

“Have I, I believe the human term is, ‘struck a nerve?’” Saval asks with clear amusement.

Before Spock can reply, another voice says, “Your prejudice is illogical, and counter to Surak’s tenant of infinite diversity in infinite combinations.” It takes Spock 4.3 seconds to process that it is Jim, speaking in nearly perfect Vulcan.

The other Vulcan children stare at him; Spock feels a spike of something akin to satisfaction at their openly surprised expressions.

“Furthermore, your continued efforts to elicit an emotional response from Spock only demonstrate your own lack of emotional control,” Jim says coldly, face as blank as any Vulcan.

“We do not have emotions,” one of the other boys protests, recovering himself.

“Of course you do. But rather than following the Vulcan way and learning to control them, you act out on fear and inadequacy, likely because Spock has greater academic prowess than any of you. And perhaps more importantly: you’re going to leave him alone now, or I’m going to hurt you.”

The boy’s brow tightens in what Spock could swear is anger. “Vulcans are three times stronger than humans, and there are three of us.”

Jim barks out a laugh, smile turning feral, and takes a step forward. Saval takes a step backward, and instantly looks furious with himself for doing so. “You think I’m going to _fight_ you? And here I thought Vulcans were supposed to be smart. No, I said I’m going to _hurt_ you. Check your PADD later; I’ll give you a little demonstration.” With that, he winks, turns on his heel, and departs.

Spock turns to look at the three boys, expression carefully blank. “Let us depart,” Saval says coldly, and turns to leave.

Spock catches up with Jim outside the building. Sarek is working late, so they will walk home.

“Where did you learn to speak Vulcan?” Spock asks.

“I had a Vulcan teacher. And I’m pretty good with languages.”

“Indeed. Why did you pretend to have no knowledge of the language?”

Jim shrugs. “Sometimes it’s helpful to hear what people think of you when they don’t think you can understand.”

“I see,” Spock replies, his eidetic memory quickly reviewing the times he has spoken Vulcan around Jim; he cannot find reason for Jim to take offense at any of his comments. “Thank you for your words,” he adds quietly, feeling oddly inadequate. He vows never again to allow his fear of being ostracized to influence his behavior toward Jim.

“Don’t mention it. Those kids are assholes. I don’t like the way they talk to you. You know it doesn’t make you any less Vulcan, right?”

“I am half human.”

“I know, but being Vulcan is obviously important to you. And you live on Vulcan, so I guess it’d be hard to be anything else.”

“Is it… hard, for you, to live here?”

Jim smiles. “Nah, this is a walk in the park.”

“A walk in the park?”

“Human expression—means it’s easy.”

“You find it easy to live here?” This is most unexpected; he did not think that being around Vulcans would be an easy life for any human. Even his mother has struggled.

“Well, yeah. It’s safe here. All I have to do is go to school.” That prompts that strange tightening in Spock’s side again, concern that a child is so pleased to find himself somewhere safe. “Plus, Sarek’s really nice”—Spock has never once thought of his father as _nice_ —“and you’re, well… I’ve never met anyone like you.”

The tightening transforms into something warm and oddly pleasant. “Nor I, you.”

Jim bites his lip; it is oddly endearing. “So maybe… we can be friends?”

“That is acceptable.”

Jim’s smile is bright like the sun. Vulcans rarely smile, which is perhaps why Spock finds it so exotic and pleasant when Jim does. He smiles too rarely for a human, Spock realizes with mild alarm. Without conscious thought, Spock is reaching out, intending to gently squeeze Jim’s shoulder, careful to keep his shields up—

But Jim jumps backwards. “Sorry! I uh… I don’t really like being touched.”

Spock nods. “Of course, Jim. My apologies.” He is surprised at himself. Vulcans rarely touch, but it had felt natural to do so with Jim. Spock believes humans to be a more tactile species, though the only data point he has on which to form such a conclusion is his mother.

“Apologies are illogical,” Jim says, in a fair imitation of Sarek.

One corner of Spock’s mouth lifts slightly in amusement.

“Woah, you smiled! I like it.”

It seems Jim will never stop surprising him. Another thought hits him: “What are you going to send to my classmates’ PADDs?”

Jim’s smile can only be classified as _mischievous_. “I hacked into their private servers and found things they don’t want anyone else to see. I’m really being nice but not sharing it with anyone else. Now let’s go home.”

“Agreeable,” Spock replies. A part of him desires to know what Jim has found on his classmates’ servers, but he is surprised to realize that he does not particularly care at the moment. He is more concerned with ensuring that Jim continue to smile. 

***

They are playing chess in Jim’s room when Spock first realizes that Jim is hoarding food. Spock has been teaching Jim the game, and with Jim’s high level of intelligence, it does not take him long to begin developing highly illogical strategies that are nevertheless effective. He has not yet won a game, but Spock now believes it to be only a matter of time.

As Jim considers his next move, Spock finds himself watching Jim’s eyes—the sweep of blond lashes, the intensity of his concentration. It is an oddly arresting sight, and Spock forces himself to look away. That is when his eyes note the stacks of nonperishables underneath Jim’s bed. He opens his mouth to ask why Jim is storing food when there is plenty available down the hall in the kitchen, not to mention the replicators—then closes it again.

Jim glances up at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Jim,” Spock says. He does not know why he did not ask. Perhaps he is afraid of the answer, but a frightening thought is forming in his mind. He knows that Jim has suffered some type of trauma, and suspects that it is greater than his disagreement with his Uncle. It is logical, given the evidence, to assume that wherever Jim came from, he did not have enough food. On Vulcan, and throughout the Federation, everyone’s nutritional needs are met. Where could Jim have been that he was not properly fed? “Are you hungry?” he asks, without really meaning to.

Jim frowns at him. “I could go for a snack, actually.”

“As could I.”

That earns him a slightly surprised laugh. “I’ve literally never seen you snack before, Spock. What are you going to have?”

“What would you like?”

“Hmm. Maybe some plomeek soup?”

“Agreeable—I will fetch us both some.”

Spock is not hungry, but he feels strangely pleased to see Jim eat. His appetite has improved markedly since his arrival. He watches more carefully over the next several days, to reassure himself that Jim is eating adequately.

***

“Can we go somewhere?”

“Where do you wish to go, Jim?”

Jim shuffles slightly, lips pursed in a frown. “Is there somewhere.. I don’t know. Out in the desert? Somewhere totally quiet and alone?”

“Affirmative,” Spock says slowly. “Why do you desire such a location?”

“It’s kind of like the wide open spaces I go to in my mind during the meditations, but like in the real world. Meditation seems to be keeping the nightmares at bay when I’m sleeping, but sometimes…”

“Sometimes?” Spock prompts.

“It’s not so easy when I’m awake,” Jim finishes.

“Please wear a hat and sunglasses,” Spock replies. “The desert sun is extremely harsh and may be damaging to you. You must also take a tri-ox compound.”

Jim grumbles slightly but agrees, and Spock drives him out into the desert; he has just recently reached an age where he can drive. Jim’s eyes are full of wonder as he glances around. “There’s really no one here,” he whispers, climbing out of the car and looking around. They are in a canyon which Spock has always found beautiful in a desolate sort of way.

“Hey, Spock?”

“Yes?”

“Would you mind if I screamed?”

Spock’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Why do you wish to scream?”

Jim shrugs with one shoulder. “It feels good.”

Spock does not understand, nor does he particularly wish Jim to scream, but he supposes it will not cause harm for him to do so. “If you wish,” is the response he settles on.

Jim nods, turns, and walks approximately 12.2 meters away. He straightens up, inhales, and then yells, “Ahhhhhhhh!” 

The sound is significantly louder than Spock expected it to be, amplified as it echoes off the canyon walls. Spock feels frozen in place, observing the strange display. He cannot comprehend the purpose of this behavior. 

“Oh my God, that felt amazing,” Jim announces, turning and stalking back toward him.

“Indeed?” Spock queries, examining Jim. He does appear more relaxed, a grin stretching the corners of his mouth.

“You should try it.”

The thought is mildly horrifying. “Negative.”

“Come on, Spock, it feels _so good_.”

“Vulcans do not feel,” Spock replies.

“Bullshit,” is Jim’s answer. “Just try it once.”

“I will not.”

“Your loss – I’m going to do it again.” And then Jim is screaming, and yelling, and making a noise that Spock cannot identify.

“What was that?” he queries.

“Whooping— more celebratory than screaming. Also feels great. God, it’s beautiful out here. We should come out here at night, I bet you can see a billion stars—not literally a billion, there’s no need to correct me.”

Spock’s mouth is open to do just that; he closes it again. “While it is inadvisable to enter this canyon after dark, we may perhaps find another place to watch the stars.”

***  
On further reflection, it shouldn’t entirely surprise Spock when Jim finds _other friends_. It does, however, surprise him immensely when one of those friends is T’Pring.

“I find him highly illogical,” T’Pring says, voice completely expressionless.

“Aww, you’re sweet,” Jim says, grinning. “I like you too.”

“I was unaware you were acquainted,” Spock says carefully. T’Pring is always so flawlessly Vulcan that it prompts mild feelings of inadequacy. He does not know what to make of the fact that she has apparently befriended Jim—or, more likely, the reverse.

“We are now,” T’Pring says simply. “We will attend the market this afternoon, where I will assist Jim in finding a suitable gift for your parents. Will you accompany us?”

“Why are you procuring a gift for my parents?”

“As a thank you for—y’know, looking after me. Though I guess it’s more a thank you to Sarek for looking after me, and to Amanda for agreeing to it, since tomorrow will be my first time meeting her.”

“Gifts are unnecessary,” Spock answers automatically.

“It is a human custom, apparently. Surely your mother at least will appreciate it?” T’Pring replies.

Spock does not know if he is being insulted or not, but Jim looks excited about the prospect. “Very well, I will accompany you.”

As they wander the market stalls, Jim smiling and laughing and generally attracting the attention of everyone around him, Spock finds himself oddly irritated. He should be pleased that Jim is expanding his social circle and has found a friend in T’Pring. Humans require social interaction for optimal health. Some small part of him is frustrated that Jim seems to find acceptance more easily here than he himself does—perhaps because he is inescapably human and not attempting to be Vulcan. But that is not the most significant reason that Spock is irritated. He has never had a friend like Jim, and he is slightly afraid that as Jim makes other friends, he will have less of the human’s time and attention.

“I believe the _ta’mach_ will be pleasing to the human palate,” T’Pring says, pointing at a stand selling a type of fried vegetable.

“Want one, Spock?” Jim asks, flashing him a brilliant smile. Spock’s concerns are illogical; Jim has shown no desire to reduce their friendship.

“Affirmative,” he replies.

Jim orders for them in Vulcan, earning a pleased nod from T’Pring. The bright Vulcan sun catches Jim’s hair and he smiles. Spock notes with pleasure that he looks both health and happy. 

They settle on a pair of meditation candles—exquisitely crafted from a jade-like stone and carved with words from Surak’s _Meditations._

“They’re perfect,” Jim breaths out. “Do you think your parents will like them?”

“I do,” Spock says.

“A most thoughtful gift,” T’Pring agrees. 

***  
Jim and Amanda seem to have an instant connection. Jim grins at her, and thanks her for letting him “crash” with them. When she asks if she can hug him, he seems at war with himself before he finally refuses. His face falls a little, as if he is disappointed in himself.

“That’s okay, sweetie,” Amanda says. “You can change your mind anytime you decide you want a hug.” 

“Thanks,” Jim says. “Hey, I got you something—you and Sarek both. I was told that wrapping gifts is illogical, but since you and I are human I decided it was okay.” He holds out the wrapped package, which Amanda accept gratefully.

“Jim, they’re beautiful—thank you so much.”

“Most appropriate,” Sarek says, one of the kinder things he has ever heard his father say. 

“Have you been meditating, Jim?”

“Yeah,” Jim replies. “It’s really helpful. Keeps my mind from going places I don’t want it to, especially while I’m sleeping.” 

“That’s really great,” Amanda says, eyes twinkling. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around for the last few months. I know you’ve been through a lot, and I would have liked to be here.”

“Ma’am—”

“Amanda, please.”

“You really, _really_ don’t need to apologize for doing your job.” He grins. “Apologies are illogical.”

“I see Sarek and Spock are turning you into a little Vulcan.” Amanda’s voice is exceedingly fond. Spock is illogically pleased that she is home—both for his own sake, and for Jim’s.

“Your mom is really nice,” Jim says as they play chess in his room later that evening.

“Indeed,” Spock agrees.

“And she like, _really_ loves you,” Jim continues, voice wistful. 

Spock is reminded, not for the first time, of Jim’s unacceptably lonely place in the world. He vows to himself to always be at Jim’s side and to ensure his safety. “Affirmative,” he says softly.

Jim’s facial expressions transforms into something like determination. “Hey,” he says, tone overly casual. “Can I hold your hand?”

Spock feels his cheeks heat slightly. He is about to say _absolutely not_ when he remembers something his mother told him: humans do not kiss with their hands, but with their mouths. It is likely that Jim sees the gesture as entirely innocent. It would be prudent for Spock to correct the misconception, but he hesitates. As far as Spock knows, Jim has not allowed anyone to touch him for any reason since arriving on Vulcan. 

“Allow me a moment to ensure that my shields are in place and your mental privacy will be protected,” Spock says. 

Jim nods, and Spock strengthens his shields before gently extending his hand. Jim looks at it for a long moment and then slowly reaches out, the pads of his fingers resting ever so gently against Spock’s palm. It sends a thrill of sensation through him that is _highly_ inappropriate, but he tamps down the response and instead focuses on _Jim._ The boy carefully entwines their fingers, clearly forcing himself to take deep breaths. It is extremely pleasant—Spock has never held hands with anyone before.

Jim’s smile is a bit tight at the corners of his mouth, but it is a genuine smile. Spock is sure of it. He sends a very gentle wave of affirmation through their entangled fingertips. Jim gasps softly. “Is that—is that you?”

“Affirmative.”

“Can you feel what I’m feeling?”

“No, I am shielding… but if you permit me, I will drop the shields slightly. This will allow me to sense your surface emotions.”

“Do it,” Jim says, and Spock complies. He feels a wave of _warmth, fear, gratitude, pain, hope._ It is confusing, both pleasant and painful. Spock wants to reach deeper, to see the root of Jim’s fears. He can sense only shadows of what is below the surface—deep loss and pain, and below that a brightness that calls to him like a siren. He slowly withdraws, not quite trusting himself to remain.

“That was cool,” Jim says, releasing his hand. He looks very pleased with himself, too pleased for Spock to press him for answers. 

***  
Jim gradually grows more comfortable with touch. He and Spock continue to occasionally hold hands, and while Spock never initiates contact, Jim now touches him an average of 2.7 times per day. Spock knows he should inform Jim of the particular meaning and sensitivity of Vulcan hands, but he does not wish to interrupt Jim’s progress. 

2.37 weeks later, Jim hugs Amanda. 

1.14 weeks after that, he allows Sarek to initiate a light meld for the sake of improving his meditation abilities.

He grows physically stronger, excels in his studies, becomes verbal to the point of frustration for the Vulcans he shares a household with, and continues to make friends—much to Spock’s consternation. He also continues to spend the bulk of his free time with Spock—much to Spock’s gratification. 

Perhaps that is why it is such a surprise when Spock finds him on the couch one day, arms wrapped around his knees, broadcasting sadness that Spock does not need touch telepathy to discern.

“Jim, what is wrong?” 

Jim just shakes his head and buries his face in his knees.

Spock realizes he is experiencing an emotional reaction: helplessness. “Jim,” he whispers, sitting beside the human. “Would you like to meditate? Play chess? Scream in the desert?” 

Jim just shakes his head, then picks up the remote and turns on the news broadcaster; it is a Federation Standard program, which explains the dramatic headline: _Horrors of Tarsus IV Colony Revealed: Murder, Violence, and Starvation._

Spock’s eyes are glued to the screen as the broadcaster explains that a fungus had threatened the colony’s food supply, and that Governor Kodos, the colony’s administrator, had reacted by murdering half the population. He had used his own brand of eugenics to determine who would live and who would die. The colony had then descended into violence, and many more had died. Of the original 4,231, only 24 people had survived. While the Federation had tried to keep the story under wraps, it had been discovered and made public.

This was clearly where Jim had been before coming to Vulcan. Anything Spock can offer feels wholly inadequate. He knows his face is displaying his horror. “Are my parents aware?” he asks hoarsely.

Jim nods. 

“May I—may I touch you?” Spock whispers. He does not violate their unspoken rule that he never initiate touch between them.

Jim hesitates for 5.32 seconds, then nods.

Spock tentatively wraps an arm around him, and Jim leans into his touch, and emits a sound that Spock cannot at first identify. After another 3 second pause, Jim throws his arms around Spock and begins to sob. Spock has heard his mother cry before, but never like this. Jim takes great hiccoughing breaths, and Spock feels the tears soaking his shirt. He tightens his grip on Jim and simply holds him until the sobs quiet. Spock continues to hold him in silence for 2.1 minutes, and then asks softly, “Do you wish to speak about it?” His mother used to ask him this question in childhood, when he was experiencing emotional distress. 

Jim shakes his head against Spock. “No,” he whispers, “Not ever.” And so Spock merely holds him. 

“Jim,” Spock says softly. “You will not be left alone again. You are safe now. I promise.”

Jim’s arms tighten around Spock. It is impossible to completely shield himself from Jim’s feelings. There is a deep, unyielding pain that makes it difficult to breathe. But there is also a fierce determination. Jim is experiencing significant distress, but it does not negate the progress he has made since arriving. Jim will not give up or give in. It gives Spock hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Jim probably shouldn't speak perfect Vulcan but I couldn't get that scene out of my head.
> 
> Sequel is in the works - it'll jump forward a few years to when they're old enough to do more than hold hands!


End file.
